Atonement
by AnnabelleElizabeth
Summary: Hermione Granger Weasley is tired of her overbearing & unsupportive husband. Depressed & roaming aimlessly in the middle of the night, she is found by an old acquaintance, now a colleague, and eventually...well, time will tell. HGSS. Rating may increase.


**_Atonement_**

Old Summary: Hermione Granger Weasley is tired of her overbearing & unsupportive husband. Depressed & roaming aimlessly in the middle of the night, she is found by an old acquaintance, now a colleague, and eventually...well, time will tell. HGSS. Rating may increase.Old A/N: I started this a few months ago but never posted it. The muses have been nagging me to continue it, so I decided to see if anyone fancied reading it.

Disclaimer: JKR is the goddess of the wizarding world and all that we hold dear about it. I am only worthy of cowering at her feet and offering my meager, uninformed ramblings of what might be for the two characters that possess my thoughts most ... in short, I only pretend it is mine when I am dreaming about it ... though I do lay claim to this particular plot. It may have been done before, but this comes from experience, not fancy.

Leave me a review if you have a chance! mwah lizzie

It was an hour of the night in which no well-meaning witch or wizard would have chosen to roam the streets of Diagon Alley, or fly o'er places unplottable to the muggle eye. But, despite all that, Hermione Granger Weasley was wandering from one darkened shop window to the next; not really seeing what was there, but reliving memories of times past. The bookstore she used to spend hours in. Her favorite table at Fortiscue's. The park where she transformed from "girlfriend" into "fiancé."

It was then that she stopped moving for the first time in hours; collapsing onto the cold, soft grass, dropping her broom beside her. She was exhausted after the day's events. It had started out peaceably enough: the usual Saturday morning lie-in, a casual brunch with her little family, and then she opted to work on some research that was really reaching an exciting stage. It was then that things began to turn – just as she was about to add the next experimental catalyst to the antidote she'd been working on, Ron had burst into her lab, eyes as fiery as his hair ...

_"What are you doing in here?"_

_"That's rather silly of you," Hermione attempted to lighten the mood, knowing she would fail as assuredly as she had before. "What else would I be doing? I think I'm about to have a breakthrough with this research for the Order._ _Why, what's the matter?"_

_"Are you joking? My Auror robes are all dirty, I have an important meeting I'm trying to prepare for and __Aurora__ keeps distracting me! Not to mention the fact that it's already __six o'clock__ and you haven't started dinner yet!"_

_She wanted to shout that he was perfectly capable of charming his clothes clean, or flooing them to the wizarding dry cleaners. As for their daughter, working from home left Hermione with meager scraps of time to work in her lab. It was far too dangerous to have a little witch underfoot when brewing experimental concoctions, so she had to take every opportunity to exercise the more practical aspects of her duties, meaning that, yes, she often left Ron to care for their child, but she was alone with Aurora all day, everyday! What did he expect of her! As for dinner, she wanted to tell him to go eat some of the bullshit that was spewing from him. All these retorts flashed through her mind in an instant, as they had before, and would again._

_But Mrs. Hermione Weasley knew better than that. She knew that her husband's temper and special variety of logic was a force to be reckoned with, and she was better off keeping him happy. Bludgers were more predictable than angry!Ron._

_"Sorry dear, the time must have slipped away from me. How about we just get floo-out from that Chinese place you like so much, love? I was just about finished here anyway. Rory & I can take a walk afterwards so you can work." Oh, how she hoped that she had masked the fear in her voice._

_The not-quite-visible steam was still puffing from his ears, but Ron was sufficiently subdued by his wife's apology. For now. He was beginning to wonder if she really cared about their home, their life together. Bottling up his uncertainties, he nodded and let out a gruff "'right then" before stomping off to immerse himself in the most recent edition of Quidditch Quarterly._

_Hermione put a stasis charm on her cauldrons, tucked away her notes, and warded the door for safety's sake, before searching out her one source of true joy. She didn't have to look long, as soon as she rounded the corner the dark-haired bundle of 3-year-old enthusiasm nearly knocked the witch down as she enveloped her legs in a tight embrace. Bending down, Hermione rescued herself from her daughter and the two went to the kitchen to see to the domestic affairs of the evening._

Hermione's sigh took visible form in the cool night air, her condensated despair backlit by a nearby street lantern. After dinner that evening, she had slipped some dreamless sleep (her own special variety - completely tasteless and highly potent) into Ron's coffee before leaving with Aurora for her 'walk'. She had apparated to her mum's, left Aurora there for the night, apparated home and summoned her broom. Then … somehow … her subconscious led her here. The first place she'd ever been in the wizarding world. The street where Voldemort had fallen just before the start of her sixth year at Hogwart's. And now, the place where she was contemplating what point there was to living.

It wasn't that she didn't love Ron. He had given her everything. He (along with Harry, she conceded) were the only real friends she had for many years in the non-muggle realm. He had fought for her honor, been blinded with jealousy over innocent relationships (_hmmm_, she thought, _maybe that wasn't such a good thing … endearing in retrospect, but bloody annoying at the time_), he had nearly died trying to protect her during the Final Battle, and he had swept her off her feet in a whirlwind romance. A seeming fairytale, to the casual observer.

But Hermione Granger Weasley could in no context be referred to as a casual observer. She was known for her ability to analyze and figure things out. It just wasn't as comfortable when you were the subject of your own scrutiny. She didn't know whether to follow her heart, or listen to her head. Did she want to stay with Ron, after all he had done _for_ her, or leave him and regain her blessed independence, because of all that he had done _to_ her?

"Damn introspection! Why in Merlin's name is life so bloody complicated?" she shouted into the darkness. Then, more controlled and somewhat bitter, "I'd take solving the unsolvable antidote over determining what I really want in life …"

"An interesting sentiment from one such as yourself, Mrs. Weasley," a silky voice interrupted from the shadows. "What could possibly have Hogwart's most intelligent graduate – since myself, of course – wallowing in a puddle of self pity?"

The Voice stepped into the light. Snape. Dark, brooding, snarky, brilliant, obnoxious Professor Severus L. Snape. Reaching out to the Gryffindor know-it-all? Had Hermione been her usual self she would have realized that something was wrong with this picture, but as it was she could only shout at him through her tears.

"What the hell do you know about me? About relationships? About anything! You never cared about anyone but yourself."

"Your evaluation of myself is wholly inaccurate, madam, I can assure you. Though I can see how you may have come to acquire that impression. Nevertheless, you seem in great need of someone that can listen, and apparently," he continued with slight hesitation, "a … shoulder … to cry on. Come. This is no place for you - not at this time of night anyway."

He extended his hand downward to aid her rise, then offered the same arm to her in a courtly gesture. She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow with only a slight timidity, then quickly regained her composure.

"If this is no place to be, why, pray tell, are you here?"

"Why, I supposed that you would have been able to deduce that. The moon is just beginning to wax, and I have some important potions to brew. And some of the ingredients are rather difficult to obtain." Hermione's eyes moved back and forth as she put the pieces together. Her unlikely companion smiled inwardly, proud that he had so easily averted her mind from its worries.

"Oh! The Wolfsbane Potion! But – but the standard ingredients are all readily available the chemist's in Hogsmeade. Why should you be lurking about London so late?"

"My dear Mrs. Weasley, you have far too little confidence in yourself and your research."

"You don't mean that you …"

"Yes, I am familiar with your theories and experiments in potions making. Honestly, you are one of the few published Potions Mistresses – or Masters – worth paying any heed to." Hermione blushed at the undisguised compliment and looked at him with gratitude.

"Thank you, Professor. I needed that, as much as I doubt the validity of your assessment." Once Hermione delivered her humble thanks, Snape paused to look her over, as if sizing up if she really was being humble, or giving her honest opinion of herself.

"Indeed," was the man's only utterance before continuing down the path towards his residence in wizarding London.

A/N: Quidditch Quarterly was something I pulled off the top of my head, but have been informed that it's popped up elsewhere, so I'm just going to consider it as fanon.


End file.
